


i'm falling (and there's no net below)

by nighttmr



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne is a good brother, Depression, Dick Grayson Deserves Better, Dick Grayson Has Issues, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Dick Grayson-centric, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Nightwing #30, Past Rape/Non-con References, Protective Damian Wayne, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm References, So much fucking angst here, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29493354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighttmr/pseuds/nighttmr
Summary: Dick knew that things weren’t going to be the same when he came back from Spyral. He expected the hatred and disgust everyone threw his way because he faked his death (no, he really did die). He expected his friends and family to turn their backs on him, wanting nothing to do with him anymore.He hurt them, lied to them, betrayed them.So when the Court of Owls kidnapped and tortured him to be their Talon (jokes on them, you can’t break what’s already broken), he didn’t expect anyone to save him.(He deserved it anyway)
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 55
Kudos: 324





	1. I'm shattering (and you don't see)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick wondered if he was actually still alive nowadays.

Dick knew that things weren’t going to be the same when he came back from Spyral. 

_he didn’t want to do it-he wanted to be with them-he wanted to come home earlier_

.

He expected the hatred and disgust everyone threw his way because he faked his death. 

_no, he really did die-he suffocated on the pill forced down his throat-his heart stopped_

.

He expected the betrayed looks in his sibling’s eyes and the punch that came his way. 

_so he didn’t dodge-he didn’t fight back-he deserved it_

.

.

.

He could still feel the sting from Jason's punch hours later as he sat on his couch in one of his safehouses and stared at the wall with a blank look, his heart aching and hurting. He ran out of tears to cry a long time ago. 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t feel like crying all over again when he remembered his welcome back from faking his death. The outrage in his siblings’ eyes. The disappointment in his friends’. The hostility from everyone. 

He got it. He really did. 

He was Dick Grayson. The Golden Boy. The one everyone flocks to for advice and guidance. The one everyone knows they can count on. The picture perfect hero. 

He wasn’t supposed to be the hero who lies and hurts the people around him. He wasn’t supposed to act like that. 

He was supposed to be better than that. He knew that. And he betrayed them, destroyed their trust and faith in him. 

So he can understand why they put such a wide chasm between them, why they avoid him and treat him like an enemy or at best, indifference. He hurt them greatly and he can never get that trust back. 

Even though he can understand why, it still hurts though. He can never handle being alone. The fucked up thoughts in his head didn’t help matters. 

But it was fine. 

_Because you can’t break what’s already broken._

.

It was one of the rare times the sun shone brightly in Gotham and the weather wasn’t complete shit. But it was only when Dick saw Damian sitting on the park bench that his hollow smile turned a little more genuine. 

“Hey, Dami.” 

When he got closer, Damian immediately stood up and wrapped his arms around his waist. And Dick hugged him back just as tightly. Before this, the boy he came to view as his own wouldn’t have initiated a hug, not wanting to appear weak or childish. But dying changes things. It changes a lot of things. 

His heart still aches and hurts, still bleeds with the jagged shards embedded in it, but right now (in this moment) it lessened and he could breathe just a little bit easier. 

In the end, Damian pulled away and Dick smiled through the loss of warmth ( ~~god, it’s been so long since anyone gave him a hug or any sort of comfort~~ ). 

“I missed you.” He said instead, sitting down on the bench. 

“I missed you too.” Damian had a little smile on his face as he curled up right next to him, pressing himself as close as he could to his side. 

Never mind the fact that they last saw each other two weeks ago. Never mind the fact that Robin and Nightwing patrolled together four days ago. 

Dick smiled (a sad, little thing) and ran his hand through those soft black locks. “So what’s been going on, Little D?” 

They talked about everything and nothing. Well, Dami was the one talking. He spoke about the morons at school, his animals, how he spent time with Jon and Colin. 

And Dick just listened. He interjected at the right times to show that he was paying attention but mostly he just listened. 

~~It was a stark contrast to their earlier years.~~

He was glad that his baby was happy. He had good friends he can trust. He had a good superhero team that will have his back. He had a father who loved him and siblings who would protect him. He was in good hands.

“How are the others doing?” 

Damian gave him an indescribable look. He knew about the tension that existed between his brother and the rest of the Bats. But obliged (like always). He could never deny Grayson when he looked so sad and wistful. 

“Pennyworth tried a new banana bread recipe yesterday. I think you will enjoy it.” He not-so-subtly hints for Grayson to visit the Manor again. “A few days ago, Todd played a prank on Drake by replacing all his coffee with decaf.” He felt his heart warm when a small happy smile appeared on Grayson’s face. “Drake was of course enraged that he can no longer waste away his life in such an undignified manner and instated a prank war. Somehow, Cassandra and Brown were pulled in.” 

“And you?” 

“I had the intelligence to evade all of that nonsense.” He rolled his eyes. Sometimes, he thinks that he is the only sane one in this dysfunctional mess that calls itself a family. “But Father wasn’t as lucky.” 

“Oh?” Those blue eyes immediately turned blank at the mention of Bruce. 

Damian wanted to take back his words. He should’ve known better than to bring Father in their conversations. Though he was unsure of Father and Grayson’s exact relationship right now, he knew it was incredibly strained. He noticed when they were in the same room together, Grayson would slightly angle his body in front of him —as if protecting him against Batman, as if Bruce was a threat. 

He didn’t know what happened after he died and he was hesitant to bring it up (he didn’t want to cause Grayson anymore pain by talking about undesirable topics). So he kept his thoughts quiet even as he continued to observe his older brother. 

“What about B, Dami?” His voice was light and airy. 

“Father had the unfortunate luck of being the recipient of both Todd and Drake’s pranks.”

Grayson’s smile grew a little wider at the thought. Damian could only breathe an inaudible sigh of relief. He did not mess things up after all. 

“What did they do?" 

He obliged once again, telling him what happened that made Father look like a drowned chicken covered in paint bombs. 

And Dick stayed quiet and listened, grasping every bit of information he can about the family that wanted nothing more to do with him. They hated him, but he loved them. Even if they will never love him again, he will never stop loving them. 

_Mama always said he loved too easily._

After everything he’s been through in his life —

.

after being kicked out and fired at 17, 

_Bruce promised he won’t leave. He promised to be family._

.

after being replaced without a care, 

_Robin was Mama’s name for me. I was her little Robin._

.

after his friends turned his back on him because of the Mirage incident, 

_“You should’ve seen through her deception. You should’ve known better.”_

.

after failing the city he tried so hard to protect, 

_No matter what I did, Bludhaven still ended up in ruins. I was a failure._

.

after dying and then being beaten by Bruce to go uncover in Spyral to protect heroes’ identities, 

_“You let them capture you, torture you, and kill you. You let me watch you die!”_

.

—He never thought it would take this long to get it through his head that he wasn’t worth anything in the end. Spyral taught him that he was expendable. 

And when he came back, it was all too easy to see that it was true. His friends and family hated him. For “faking” his death and lying to them. For daring to break his perfect hero act and ruin the pedestal they put him on. 

He wondered if it was a mercy or not that maybe it was best to have stayed dead in the first place. Make the lie into a truth. It would be so easy to fling himself off a building and join his parents. It would be so easy to have an accident on patrol and just let a lucky shot in. 

People would mourn but they would move on like before. Maybe they would get over his death faster since he was no longer good or perfect in their eyes anymore. 

It would all be so easy. What was stopping him? 

This little boy with his innocent emerald green eyes sitting right next to him. Damian already lost him once, and he wasn’t going to make him lose him again for the second time. 

“Grayson?” 

He hummed in lieu of an answer. 

Dami had that indescribable expression on his face again. Dick didn’t know what to make of it. 

“Are you okay, Grayson?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” He smiled, bright, beautiful, and perfect —everything Dick Grayson is, everything _he_ is not. 

.

.

.

Dick was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The sounds of Gotham’s nightlife were the only thing keeping him company. 

He couldn’t sleep much recently. It was hard to allow himself to rest when the nightmares were waiting for him. 

These days he just felt like a puppet whose strings were just on the verge of breaking. And no matter how much he tried to put the broken pieces of himself back together, it felt like it was never enough. That the tape and glue making up _Dick Grayson_ was falling apart faster than he can repair it. 

He died when Luthor force-fed him the pill that stopped his heart. But he wondered if he really did recover from that. When they restarted his heart, did he actually come back to life? Or did he lose the parts that made him _Dick Grayson_ and now he was just a stranger wearing a familiar face?

He wondered if it has always been like this since he died, and he was just now realizing it. He didn’t come back whole. 

He came back 

~~_B R O K E N ._ ~~

~~_F R A G I L E ._ ~~

~~_T A I N T E D ._ ~~

**_D A M A G E D ._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick died. And Bruce fucking Wayne decided that the appropriate response was to traumatize his recently resurrected son further by beating the shit out of him while ordering him to go undercover in an evil organization with no assistance and no back up plans while everyone he loves thinks he’s still dead. 
> 
> What the actual fuck? 
> 
> And when Dick comes back from Spyral, people are upset at him for lying about his death (which he didn’t fake) and he just accepts that, never saying how he was literally beaten and forced to do it. I don’t think he ever told someone about that. 
> 
> Needless to say, I did not like the Spyral arc much.


	2. I'm breaking (I can't do this anymore)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is not having a good time, but that was usually the norm these days.

These days Dick can feel something staring him down but when he looked, there was nothing there. It didn’t stop him from feeling off-kilter though. 

Just what was wrong with him? 

_Well, there were a lot of things wrong with him. He was a dirty, filthy liar. A horrible brother. A terrible son. And an even worse hero. But that doesn’t solve anything._

“Nightwing!” He tried not to flinch at the sound of Batman’s voice. ~~His siblings were right there; there’s no way Bruce would beat him right in front of them.~~ “Stop being distracted and assist Red Robin.” 

“I wasn’t distracted.” He lied through a pretty smile. It was a trait that never went away from the circus. If you want to be more accurate, it was a trait he got better at when he lived with Bruce. 

Even though every instinct screamed at him not to leave _his_ Robin alone with Batman (irrational but he can’t help it), he did as he was told. 

_Because didn’t you know? He was such a good little obedient soldier._

Tonight was busy with an Arkham breakout meaning all hands on deck. So when Nightwing dropped into the fray and helped subdue Scarecrow, Tim merely grunted in acknowledgement instead of letting out a scathing retort. 

Not that the cold shoulder was anything new. Dick grew used to the treatment. Just like he became used to the snide insults from Red Hood and Batgirl, the cold and clipped tone from Oracle, and the stinging silence from Black Bat.

Even as he forces himself to make funny quips and flashy moves as he fights _just to pretend that everything was normal again_ , even he can see that he was no longer what he used to be. He was a shell of what he once was. But he still goes out at night. 

To be honest, the only reason he still puts on the costume is because of Damian. He had to be there for him. Because he wasn’t going to fail his Robin again.

So he puts up with the hatred and animosity and zip his mouth shut. He didn’t whine or complain. Instead, he had a pretty smile on his face and joked around like everything was okay. 

_he didn’t want to do it-he wanted to be with them-he wanted to come home earlier_

His siblings didn’t take too kindly to his carefree attitude —as if all the hurt and pain they suffered when they thought their big brother was dead didn’t matter, as if their aching hearts was just an insignificant thing to be brushed aside. 

He gets it. He really does. But if he doesn’t pretend, he was forced to face the truth of how much he was breaking inside and how much _Dick Grayson_ he was losing. And he doesn’t know if he can actually handle the truth. 

.

At the end of the night with every criminal back in prison, everyone was in a good mood at a job well done. They were trading inside jokes and exchanging playful banter. Even Batman looked a little relaxed. 

Dick was standing off to the side and just watched the family he can never be a part of again. As was becoming the norm, he doesn’t join them. 

Only Damian asked if he was coming back to the Manor. Only he insisted that Dick come back home. 

But Dick saw how the others tense at the question. Knew that if he goes, he’ll just ruin whatever friendly atmosphere was in the air. 

So he let his baby down gently. Said he was too tired tonight and felt a little stab of guilt when those green eyes turned sad and a frown appeared on his face. It wasn’t enough to make him back his words though because he saw how his siblings relaxed when he said “no”. 

_They hated him, but he loved them. Even if they will never love him again, he will never stop loving them._

And he would always try to make them happy. 

So he leaves, far away where he isn’t wanted or needed. 

It was also a good thing that he was gone. Because he didn’t tell anyone that he has been exposed to fear toxin and used all of his antidotes on civilians. 

_Not that it really mattered. Besides Damian and maybe Alfred, there was no one else who would have cared if he was hurt._

It wasn’t that large of a dose. He’ll be able to make it to his safehouse (the only home he has nowadays) to ride it out. 

It’ll be worse if he went back to the Manor. There were too many bad memories with the Cave, and he won’t put himself vulnerable in the same room as Bruce again. He won’t allow that to happen again. 

Batman did nothing about the others’ treatment towards him, but it wasn’t like he was expecting anything less from the man. 

He can still feel the punches and kicks raining down on him. Can still feel the hurt and pain his _mentor-dad-family_ had no trouble dishing out to make sure that Dick was a good little obedient soldier who does what he wants. 

Nightwing can feel the toxin trying to take hold, but luckily, he was able to keep pushing it aside, ignoring the vague wispy hallucinations suddenly appearing in his peripheral vision, ignoring the screams of everyone he’s failed and the vicious words being spat at him from all sides. 

It was only when he was climbing in the window that he felt the toxin fully taking effect and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. There was the familiar feeling of ants running underneath his skin and the familiar sight of solid hallucinations right in front of him.

His uniform felt too tight clinging to his clammy skin, and he almost tore it trying to get it off him. He put on an oversized shirt and clean shorts lying around before curling up in his bed above the covers and finally letting the nightmares overwhelm him.

Home sweet home. 

.

.

.

He watched his parents fall over and over again and the blood pooling underneath their bodies. Even though he knew better, he repeatedly begged them to open their eyes as if it would change the fact they were nothing but cold corpses. 

He was forced away from their dead bodies and put in juvie because there was no more room in any orphanages for a gypsy freak like him. 

He was beaten by the other kids, made fun of for his poor English, and the adults (that were supposed to be protecting him) didn’t bat an eye. 

Except when he caused trouble. 

And they loved pinning any blame on him. They loved locking him in a closet (out of sight, out of mind) even more. 

.

He watched his relationship with Bruce deteriorate further before he was replaced without a care. Jason hated Tim for being his replacement. But he was the original. Every Robin after him taught him that he wasn’t good enough for the man who trained him and gave him a home. 

He was the one who wasn’t good enough for anyone to love or adopt. 

_Because didn’t you know? He adopted Jason and Tim._

Why was he the only one out of all of Bruce’s kids that wasn’t adopted? Why was he the only one that wasn’t worth being given a family?

He wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t anything. He was the first. A test run for Bruce to mess up without any consequences. A placeholder for all the children Bruce will choose and cherish after him. 

.

He had nothing. 

Well, he thought he had the Titans. He thought he had his friends. But then Mirage happened, and Kori was pissed at him for sleeping with her. Because he should’ve seen through her deception. He should’ve known better. 

_I didn’t know! I’m sorry! Please don’t leave me!_

~~I don’t want to be alone again.~~

.

He watched everything he ever loved go up in flames because of a mistake that Nightwing made, a mistake that made Blockbuster turned his sight on Dick Grayson. 

He was numb when Babs cut ties with him, not wanting anything to do with him again. He was numb when Catalina ran her hands over him. 

_“No. Please don’t—”_

_“Shh, Cariño. I know you want this.”_

_“No.”_ His pleas fell on deaf eyes, silenced out by the pouring rain around them. 

.

The screams of all the people he failed rang in his ears. They were dying, they were dead because of him. 

_No matter what I did, Bludhaven still ended up in ruins. I was a failure._

They blamed him. He should’ve done better. If only he was a better hero. If only he was a better son. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have had to suffer so much. 

.

The Crime Syndicate tortured him. They beat him black and blue until bruises decorated his body, he coughed blood, and still, they didn’t stop there. 

He can feel the barbed lasso embedding itself around his throat. He can hear their victorious laughter. 

_“This is supposed to be one of Earth’s heroes? What a laughing stock!”_

He couldn’t fight back. He couldn’t get away. He couldn’t do a single thing but lay there and just take it. 

.

He was choking, suffocating on the pill that’ll end his life. He was dying, crying when he came back to life. 

And he wasn’t given any respite. 

_“You let them capture you, torture you, and kill you. You let me watch you die!”_

He felt the vicious punches and kicks. He heard the words Batman hurled at him with a brutal aggression. 

And he wanted it to stop. 

But it didn’t stop. 

Was this why Bruce didn’t want him in the family? Because he was weak enough to be captured and he wasn’t able to escape? Because he allowed Lex to kill him when he was strapped to a bomb and couldn’t get out despite how well trained he was? 

Was this why Bruce sent him to Spyral in the first place? Because his place was far, far away from the Waynes and Bats where he couldn't taint them with his poisonous presence. 

No one wanted him around. He was better off gone ~~dead~~. 

.

He listened as his siblings blamed him. And he said nothing in his defense. Because it wasn’t like they were wrong. 

They were angry at him. Rage colored their vision as they spat out all his failures and regrets back in his face. 

Jason blamed him being such a shitty brother. _“Why weren’t you ever there for me?”_

Tim blamed him for tearing Robin from him and ruining their relationship. _“I hate you. You were supposed to be better than Bruce.”_

Babs blamed him for ruining their relationship. It was the same thing with Kori. He was a slut. It was his fault that people wanted him. He was a whore who can’t keep his hands to himself. 

The rest of his siblings weren’t any better with their judging stares and hatred filled eyes towards the man who hurt them with his terrible lies, at the broken hero who played them for fools. 

All he could do was apologize over and over again, a string of “ _I_ ' _m sorry-I’m sorry-I’m sorry_ ”’s spilling from his lips. But they did nothing. 

They never did. 

The worst was when Damian cried, tears running down his face, as he stared at him with betrayal and disappointment. 

~~He rather take the anger.~~

“You were supposed to protect me. You promised to always protect me. And I died.” 

He knows he let Damian die in the first place. He failed his Robin. If only he was a better hero. If only he was a better person. 

Then maybe the poison coursing through his veins wouldn’t have passed onto Damian. 

.

As much as everything everyone said was the truth, he couldn’t endure any more. He didn’t want to listen anymore. But the screams and the voices wouldn’t allow him any rest. 

They never did. 

.

.

.

The Court will be pleased at the success of their mission. 

It was all too easy. The so-called heroes have already done the majority of their work. The Gray Son was beaten, broken to the point where it won’t take much to brainwash him into being their invincible weapon, mold him into being their perfect Talon. 

They watched their target cry himself to sleep before silently entering the safehouse yet he instantly woke up and got on his feet. But it was for naught. Too weak and wrung out to put up any kind of resistance, it was easy to subdue him and inject a knockout drug into him to ensure he won’t wake up before the Grandmaster wishes him to. 

Soon, the Gray Son will be where it belongs. 


	3. I'm dying (and you walk away)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was okay. Dick wasn’t expecting anyone to save him anyway.

Pain was a familiar friend. 

As familiar as the beating pulse in his chest and the ever constant blame thrown at him. 

They made him bleed and left him choking on the life draining out of him until they deemed it long enough to stop and heal his injuries before starting the process all over again. They threw him in the twisting white-walled maze until he felt like he was going crazy and on the verge of killing himself. They cut into him more and more, as if every scar is a sign of him further being molded to their will, of his mind further breaking. 

_Jokes on them, you can’t break what’s already broken._

It seems the Court of Owls had learned their lesson from years ago when Batman destroyed them and forced the remaining to scatter like rats under the radar. 

The restraints on the former hero ( ~~former son~~ ) were tight and heavy. He could hardly even twitch. And there was a muzzle on his face to silence any funny quips. 

That last part was unnecessary. 

He was too tired and too numb to play the part. There were no family or friends around to play pretend to. 

He hasn’t been feeling like Nightwing in a long while. And he’s pretty sure there wasn’t any Dick Grayson left him in anymore. 

~~(that man died strapped to a bomb, choking on a pill hoping his dad would save him)~~

Morbidly, he wondered if the Bats would notice his disappearance or just not give a fuck. Why would they? They hated him. He’s pretty sure only Alfred and Dami would care about his absence. 

_Damian already lost him once, and he wasn’t going to make him lose him again for the second time._

He felt sad that he won’t be able to keep his promise to himself, won’t be able to keep Dami from feeling more pain and hurt. 

His baby would cry and rage in despair. But he’ll move on. He had a whole family there for him. He had siblings and friends who would make sure he wasn’t alone. And he had a father who cared. 

Dami will be okay. 

.

.

.

At one point in the torture, he started laughing —mad and hysterical. 

He didn’t know why. 

It was funny. 

~~Nothing about this was funny.~~

He wanted to laugh. 

~~He wanted to cry.~~

But here he was thinking his family couldn’t hurt him any more than they already did. He forgot the Graysons had their roots in the fabled nursery rhyme. 

He forgot that he has always had this poison running through his veins. 

_Was this his legacy?_

That no matter how hard he tries to fight against it, he will always be the villain of the story. 

_They were right._

What good can he do? How could he call himself a hero when he does such a shitty ass job of it? 

He was expendable. He was nothing. 

Just damaged goods. 

.

He knew he was breaking. 

Knew he was losing the fight ~~losing his mind~~. 

_Why aren’t you fighting back? Why are you letting them win?_

_Aren’t you a hero?_

He hasn’t been a hero for a long time. 

He was tired. 

Of the pain and the hurt. Of constantly being treated like the bad guy. Of constantly hearing the blame thrown at him. He didn’t want to hear it anymore, didn’t want to feel how much of a failure he really was. 

He wasn’t strong enough to handle it. 

_Because didn’t you know? He was a weak pathetic coward._

.

.

.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been. There were obviously no calendars here. 

It could be days. It could even be months. He wouldn’t know. 

~~He stopped caring, stopped living.~~

There was a vague fogginess in his head, a blanket of numbness that made the pain bearable, that pushed the flashbacks (the accusations) away. 

It was nice being numb, detached from reality, where nothing can hurt him any further. 

Time blended in together and he couldn’t find it within himself to give that much of a fuck. 

All he knew was the constant routine of torture, pain, and numbness. All he knew was that no one was coming for him. 

But it wasn’t like he was expecting anyone to save him. Like he said earlier, he was damaged goods —not even worth a rescue mission. 

And it was okay. 

No, really. 

It was fine. 

He deserved it anyway.

.

.

.

There was a new Talon.

He had the classic golden eyes, the hyper sensitivity to cold temperatures, and the same electrum that reanimates it over and over again essentially making it immortal.

Like every other Talon, this one was emotionless to the blood splattering over its uniform and unaffected by the light fading from its victim’s eyes. Were they evil or innocent, it had no opinion over what its Masters ordered. He killed so easily that it was practically second nature. 

But this one was a bit different than the others. 

They call him the Gray Son. 

Rumors had it that he was the Court’s best and favored assassin. Rumors had it that it didn’t take much to break him. 

Rumors had it that he was incredibly well-trained. Rumors had it that he was young and his targets already reached double digits. 

Rumors had it that he used to be a hero. 

.

.

.

_Richard Grayson. Dick Grayson. Richard Wayne. Richie Wayne._

Who were these people his Masters keep saying? 

He didn’t know them. 

All he knew was Talon.

His Masters were smiling in delight. He didn’t know why. But that was good news, right? Maybe he’ll be able to get through one day without any punishment or torture. 

.

Talon has a new assignment: 

Kill the Bats of Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter but Dick was mostly disassociating throughout the whole thing until the Court made him into a Talon, stripping him of all emotions until he was just a robot. So there isn’t much from his POV. 
> 
> The Bats will come in the next chapter.


End file.
